Although Yahweh told these elohim that they would die like men (Psa 82:6–8)—that he would strip them of their immortality—there is no indication that the threat tempered opposition to Yahweh.

The gods themselves “will die like men” when Yahweh has reclaimed what is his (Psa 82:6–8).

The gods themselves “will die like men” when Yahweh has reclaimed what is his (Psa 82:6–8).

There are few Bible passages that raise as many questions as this one.1 Who are the sons of God? Are they divine or human? Who were the Nephilim? How do these verses relate to the human evil described in Genesis 6:5?

Peter and Jude did not fear the alternative. They embraced a supernatural view of Genesis 6:1–4. Two passages are especially relevant.

Scholars agree that the passages are about the same subject matter.10 They describe an episode from the time of Noah and the flood where “angels” sinned.11 That sin, which precipitated the flood, was sexual in nature; it is placed in the same category as the sin which prompted the judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah. The transgression was interpreted by Peter and Jude as evidence of despising authority and the boundaries of “proper dwelling” for the parties concerned. All of those elements are transparent in Genesis 6:1–4. There is simply no other sin in the Old Testament that meets these specific details—and no other “angelic” sin at all in the Old Testament that might be the referent.12

The punishment for the transgression, however, is not mentioned in Genesis 6:1–4. Peter has the divine sons of God held captive in “Tartarus” in chains of darkness until a time of judgment.13 Jude echoes the thought and clarifies the judgment as the day of the Lord (“the great day”; cf. Zeph 1:1–7; Rev 16:14). These elements come from Jewish literature written between our Old and New Testaments (the “Second Temple” period) that retell the Genesis 6 episode. The most famous of these is 1 Enoch. That book informed the thinking of Peter and Jude; it was part of their intellectual worldview.14 The inspired New Testament writers were perfectly comfortable referencing content found in 1 Enoch and other Jewish books to articulate their theology.15

CHAPTER 13

The Bad Seed

IN THE LAST CHAPTER WE LEARNED THAT NEW TESTAMENT WRITERS PAR-took of the intellectual climate of their own Jewish community, a community that flourished in the period between the Old and New Testament. It might seem unnecessary to mention this, given the enthusiasm many Bible readers have today for tapping into the Jewish mind to understand the words of Jesus and the apostles. When it comes to Genesis 6:1–4, though, that enthusiasm often sours, since the result doesn’t support the most comfortable modern Christian interpretation.

The truth is that the writers of the New Testament knew nothing of the Sethite view, nor of any view that makes the sons of God in Genesis 6:1–4 humans. Our goal in this chapter is to revisit the passage and dig deeper. When we take it on its own terms, we can determine its character and meaning.

THE ANCIENT NEAR EASTERN CONTEXT

That Genesis 1–11 has many connections to Mesopotamian literature is not disputed by scholars, evangelical or otherwise. The story of creation, the genealogies before the flood, the flood itself, and the tower of Babel incident all have secure connections to Mesopotamian material that is much older than the Old Testament.1

Genesis 6:1–4, too, has deep Mesopotamian roots that, until very recently, have not been fully recognized or appreciated.2 Jewish literature like 1 Enoch that retold the story shows a keen awareness of that Mesopotamian context. This awareness shows us that Jewish thinkers of the Second Temple period understood, correctly, that the story involved divine beings and giant offspring.3 That understanding is essential to grasping what the biblical writers were trying to communicate.

Genesis 6:1–4 is a polemic; it is a literary and theological effort to undermine the credibility of Mesopotamian gods and other aspects of that culture’s worldview. Biblical writers do this frequently. The strategy often involves borrowing lines and motifs from the literature of the target civilization to articulate correct theology about Yahweh and to show contempt for other gods. Genesis 6:1–4 is a case study in this technique.

Mesopotamia had several versions of the story of a catastrophic flood, complete with a large boat that saves animals and humans.4 They include mention of a group of sages (the apkallus), possessors of great knowledge, in the period before the flood. These apkallus were divine beings. Many apkallus were considered evil; those apkallus are integral to Mesopotamian demonology. After the flood, offspring of the apkallus were said to be human in descent (i.e., having a human parent) and “two-thirds apkallu.”5 In other words, the apkallus mated with human women and produced quasi-divine offspring.

The parallels to Genesis 6:1–4 are impossible to miss. The “two-thirds divine” description is especially noteworthy, since it precisely matches the description of the Mesopotamian hero Gilgamesh. Recent critical work on the cuneiform tablets of the Epic of Gilgamesh has revealed that Gilgamesh was considered a giant who retained knowledge from before the flood.6

Other connections: In the Mesopotamian flood story found in a text now known as the Erra Epic, the Babylonian high god Marduk punishes the evil apkallus with banishment to the subterranean waters deep inside the earth, which were known as Apsu.7 The Apsu was also considered part of the underworld.8 Marduk commanded that they never come up again. The parallels are clear and unmistakable. The banishment of these sinister divine beings to beneath the earth is significant. In the last chapter, I noted that this element of the story, found in 2 Peter and Jude, is not found in the Old Testament. The presence of this item in books like 1 Enoch and, subsequently, in the New Testament, is a clear indication that Jewish writers between the testaments were aware of the Mesopotamian context of Genesis 6:1–4.9

There are two other features to highlight in our discussion before we discuss what it all means.

THE SONS OF GOD:

Watchers, Sons of Heaven, Holy Ones

The divine transgression before the flood is retold in several Jewish texts from the intertestamental period. At least one has the divine offenders coming to earth to “fix” the mess that was humankind—to provide direction and leadership through their knowledge. They were trying to help, but once they had assumed flesh, they failed to resist its urges.10 The more common version of events, one with a more sinister flavor, is found in 1 Enoch 6–11. This is the reading that informed Peter and Jude. The story begins very much like Genesis 6:

And when the sons of men had multiplied, in those days, beautiful and comely daughters were born to them. And the watchers, the sons of heaven, saw them and desired them. And they said to one another, “Come, let us choose for ourselves wives from the daughters of men, and let us beget for ourselves children.”

The account has the Watchers descending to Mount Hermon, a site that will factor into the biblical epic in unexpected ways. Watcher, the English translation of Aramaic ʿir, is not new to us. In an earlier chapter about how God and his council participate together in decision making, we looked at part of Daniel 4, one of the sections of Daniel written in Aramaic, not Hebrew. Daniel 4 is the only biblical passage to specifically use the term watcher to describe the divine “holy ones” of Yahweh’s council.11 The geographical context of Daniel is of course Babylon (Dan 1:1–7), which is in Mesopotamia.

The offspring of the Watchers (sons of God) in 1 Enoch were giants (1 Enoch 7). Some fragments of 1 Enoch among the Dead Sea Scrolls give names for some of the giants. Other texts that retell the story and are thus related to 1 Enoch do the same. The most startling of these is known today by scholars as The Book of Giants. It exists only in fragments, but names of several giants, offspring of the Watchers, have survived. One of the names is Gilgamesh, the main character of the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh.12

Figurines of apkallus, the Mesopotamian counterparts to the sons of God, are known through the work of Mesopotamian archaeologists. They were buried in rows of boxes as parts of foundation walls for Mesopotamian buildings to ward off evil powers.13 These boxes were referred to by Mesopotamians as mats-tsarey, which means “watchers.”14 The connection is explicit and direct.

THE NEPHILIM

One of the great debates over Genesis 6:1–4 is the meaning of the word nephilim. We’ve seen from the Mesopotamian context that the apkallus were divine, mated with human women, and produced giant offspring. We’ve also seen that Jewish thinkers in the Second Temple period viewed the offspring of Genesis 6:1–4 in the same way—as giants. Any analysis of the term nephilim must account for, not ignore or violate, these contexts.

Interpretation of the term nephilim must also account for another Jewish phenomenon between the testaments—translation of the Old Testament into Greek. I speak here of the Septuagint. The word nephilim occurs twice in the Hebrew Bible (Gen 6:4; Num 13:33). In both cases the Septuagint translated the term with gigas (“giant”).15

Given the backdrop we’ve covered, it would seem obvious that nephilim ought to be understood as “giants.” But many commentators resist the rendering, arguing that it should be read as “fallen ones” or “those who fall upon” (a battle expression). These options are based on the idea that the word derives from the Hebrew verb n-p-l (naphal, “to fall”). More importantly, those who argue that nephilim should be translated with one of these expressions rather than “giants” do so to avoid the quasi-divine nature of the Nephilim. That in turn makes it easier for them to argue that the sons of God were human.

In reality, it doesn’t matter whether “fallen ones” is the translation. In both the Mesopotamian context and the context of later Second Temple Jewish thought, their fathers are divine and the nephilim (however translated) are still described as giants.16 Consequently, insisting that the name means “fallen” produces no argument to counter a supernatural interpretation.

Despite the uselessness of the argument, I’m not inclined to concede the point. I don’t think nephilim means “fallen ones.”17 Jewish writers and translators habitually think “giants” when they use or translate the term. I think there’s a reason for that.

Explaining my own view of what the term means involves Hebrew morphology, the way words are spelled or formed in Hebrew. Since that discussion gets technical very quickly, I’ve elected to put those details elsewhere, at least for the most part.18 But since I don’t like to leave questions unanswered, we need to devote some attention to it here.

The spelling of the word nephilim provides a clue to what root word the term is derived from. Nephilim is spelled two different ways in the Hebrew Bible: nephilim and nephiylim. The difference between them is the “y” in the second spelling. Hebrew originally had no vowels. All words were written with consonants only. As time went on, Hebrew scribes started to use some of the consonants to mark long vowel sounds. English does this with the “y” consonant—sometimes it’s a vowel. Hebrew does that with its “y” letter, too (the yod).

The takeaway is that the second spelling (nephiylim) tells us that the root behind the term had a long-i (y) in it before the plural ending (-im) was added. That in turn helps us determine that the word does not mean “those who fall.” If that were the case, the word would have been spelled nophelim. A translation of “fallen” from the verb naphal is also weakened by the “y” spelling form. If the word came from the verb naphal, we’d expect a spelling of nephulim for “fallen.”

However, there’s another possible defense for the meaning “fallen.” Instead of coming from the verb naphal, the word might come from a noun that has a long-i vowel in the second syllable. This kind of noun is called a qatiyl noun. Although there is no such noun as naphiyl in the Hebrew Bible, the hypothetical plural form would be nephiylim, which is the long spelling we see in Numbers 13:33.

This option solves the spelling problem, but it fails to explain everything else: the Mesopotamian context, the Second Temple Jewish recognition of that context, the connection of the term to Anakim giants (Num 13:33; Deut 2–3), and the fact that the Septuagint translators interpreted the word as “giants.”

So where does the spelling nephiylim come from? Is there an answer that would simultaneously explain why the translators were consistently thinking “giants”?

There is indeed.

Recall that the Old Testament tells us that Jewish intellectuals were taken to Babylon. During those seventy years, the Jews learned to speak Aramaic. They later brought it back to Judah. This is how Aramaic became the primary language in Judea by the time of Jesus.

The point of Genesis 6:1–4 was to express contempt for the divine Mesopotamian apkallus and their giant offspring. Biblical writers had an easy choice of vocabulary for divine beings: sons of God. Their readers would know that the phrase pointed to divine beings, and other passages in the Torah (Deut 32:17) labeled other divine beings as demons (shedim). But these writers needed a good word to villainize the giant offspring. “Fallen ones” doesn’t telegraph giantism, so that didn’t help them make the point.

My view is that, to solve this messaging problem, the Jewish scribes adopted an Aramaic noun: naphiyla—which means “giant.” When you import that word and pluralize it for Hebrew, you get nephiylim, just what we see in Numbers 13:33. This is the only explanation to the meaning of the word that accounts for all the contexts and all the details.

THE STRATEGY OF GENESIS 6

But what does it all mean? Why is Genesis 6:1–4 in the Bible? What was its theological message? I’ve already noted that the goal was polemic—a dismissal of Mesopotamian religion. But that’s a little vague. Let’s explore it.

Because the content of Genesis 1–11 has so many deep, specific touch-points with Mesopotamian literary works, many scholars believe that these chapters either were written during the exile in Babylon or were edited at that time.19 The scribes wanted to make it clear that certain religious ideas about the gods and the world were misguided or false.

Think about the setting. The Jews, followers of Yahweh, were in Babylon, deported against their will by the greatest empire in their known world. Though captives, prophets like Ezekiel (and Jeremiah before him) had told the people that their situation was temporary—that the God of Israel remained the real sovereign. He was fully in control and was the true God. They would be set free and Babylon would crumble. For Jewish scribes, their work during the exile was an opportunity to set the record straight for posterity. And that they did.

Babylonian intellectuals (mostly, the priestly class) presumed that civilization in Mesopotamia before the flood had been handed down by their gods. For that reason, they wanted to connect themselves and their intellectual achievements with knowledge from before the flood. It was their way of claiming that their knowledge and skills were divine and, therefore, superior to those of the nations they had conquered. That in turn meant that the gods of those nations were inferior to the gods of Babylon.

The apkallus were the great culture-heroes of preflood knowledge. They were the divine sages of a glorious bygone era. Babylonian kings claimed to be descended from the apkallus and other divine figures from before the flood. The collective claim was that glorious Babylonia was the sole possessor of divine knowledge, and that that empire’s rule had the approval of the gods.

The biblical writers and later Jews disagreed. They saw Babylonian knowledge as having demonic origins—in large part because the apkallus themselves were so intertwined with Mesopotamian demonology. The Babylonian elite taught that the divine knowledge of the apkallus had survived the flood through a succeeding postflood generation of apkallus—giant, quasi-divine offspring fathered by the original preflood apkallus.

The biblical writers took what Babylonians thought was proof of their own divine heritage and told a different story. Yes, there were giants, renowned men, both before and after the flood (Gen 6:4). But those offspring and their knowledge were not of the true God—they were the result of rebellion against Yahweh by lesser divine beings. Genesis 6:1–4, along with 2 Peter and Jude, portrays Babylon’s boast as a horrific transgression and, even worse, the catalyst that spread corruption throughout humankind. Genesis 6:5 is essentially a summary of the effect of the transgression. It gets little space—it’s a restrained account. The later Second Temple Jewish literature goes after it full bore.

First Enoch 8 goes on to elaborate how certain watchers corrupted humankind by means of forbidden divine knowledge, practices largely drawn from Babylonian sciences, another clear indication that the intellectual context of the story was known to Second Temple authors. Since the Babylonian apkallus were considered demonic, it is no mystery why Peter and Jude link the events of Genesis 6:1–4 to false teachers (2 Pet 2:1–4). While attacking their aberrant knowledge, Peter and Jude evoke the imagery of Genesis 6. False teachers are “licentious” men who indulge in “defiling lusts” (2 Pet 2:2, 10; Jude 8). Like the divine beings of Genesis 6 who “did not keep to their own domain” (Jude 6), defecting from the loyal elohim of Yahweh’s council, false teachers “despise authority” and “blaspheme majestic beings” whom angels dare not rebuke (2 Pet 2:9–11; Jude 8–10).

Less obvious is the implication of the incident with respect to the promised seed of Eve. The biblical writers draw attention to Noah’s blamelessness (Gen 6:9). Scripture does not specifically exempt Noah and his family from the sinful cohabitation of Genesis 6:1–4, but since the event was so heinous, it would be absurd to presume otherwise.20 As concepts like divine sonship began to appear in the Bible with respect to Yahweh’s people Israel (Exod 4:23), the Israelite king (Psa 2:7), and, ultimately, the messiah, the theological messaging became important. Noah is in the line of Christ (Luke 3:36; cf. 3:38). At no point could it be claimed that the ultimate seed of Eve, the messianic deliverer, was the son of any elohim besides Yahweh.21

Genesis 6:1–4 is far from being peripheral in importance. It furthers the theme of conflict between divine rebels (the “seed of the nachash”) and humanity that will impede the progress of Eden’s restoration. It is one of two passages in the Old Testament that fundamentally frame the history of Israel as a people and a land. The other one is the subject of the next chapter.

The serpent (nachash) was an image commonly used in reference to a divine throne guardian. Given the context of Eden, that helps identify the villain as a divine being. The divine adversary dispenses divine information, using it to goad Eve. He gives her an oracle (or, an omen!): You won’t really die. God knows when you eat you will be like one of the elohim. Lastly, a shining appearance conveys a divine nature. All the meanings telegraph something important. They are also consistent with the imagery from Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28.

But the judgment on Eve also tells us that the nachash would have offspring as well. The rest of the biblical story doesn’t consist of humans battling snake people. That’s no surprise, since the enemy of humanity wasn’t a mere snake. The Bible does, however, describe an ongoing conflict between followers of Yahweh and human and divine beings who follow the spiritual path of the nachash. All who oppose God’s kingdom plan are the seed of the nachash.

The nachash was cursed to crawl on its belly, imagery that conveyed being cast down (Ezek 28:8, 17; Isa 14:11–12, 15) to the ground. In Ezekiel 28 and Isaiah 14, we saw the villain cast down to the ʾerets, a term that refers literally to the dirt and metaphorically to the underworld (Ezek 28:17; Isa 14:9, 11–12, 15). The curse also had him “eating dirt,” clearly a metaphorical reference, since snakes don’t really eat dirt as food for nutrition. It isn’t part of the “natural snake diet.” The point being made by the curse is that the nachash, who wanted to be “most high,” will be “most low” instead—cast away from God and the council to earth, and even under the earth. In the underworld, the nachash is even lower than the beasts of the field. He is hidden from view and from life in God’s world. His domain is death.

After the fall, though humankind was estranged from God and no longer immortal, the plan of God was not extinguished. Genesis 3 tells us why we die, why we need redemption and salvation, and why we cannot save ourselves. It also tells us that God’s plan has only been delayed—not defeated—and that the human story will be both a tragic struggle and a miraculous, providential saga.

Consider what happens to the nachash against the backdrop of the judgment language found in Ezekiel 28 and Isaiah 14:

SERPENT/SHINING ONE IMAGERY & PUNISHMENT

Hebrew Term

English Meaning

Concept

Important Verses

nachash

“serpent” (noun)

“to use divination,

give omens” (verb)

“bronze, brazen” (adj)

word play; triple entendre Image of serpent (divine throne guardian), information from divine realm (divination), shining appearance associated with divinity (brazen)

Gen 3:1–2, 4, 13–14

chawwat

“serpent”

Ezek 28:12 (with silent m)

helel

ben-shachar

“shining one, son of the dawn”

shining appearance associated with divinity

Isa 14:12

Ezek 28:13 (gems)

yarad

gadaʿ

shalak

“brought down”

“cut down”

“cast down”

an expulsion from the divine presence and former service role to Yahweh6

Ezek 28:8, 17

Isa 14:11–12, 15

ʾerets

“earth, ground” (abstractly): underworld realm of the dead

underworld, realm of the dead

NOTE: the nachash of Gen 3 is made to crawl on his belly, put on the ground, under the feet of animals (Gen 3:14)

Ezek 28:17

Isa 14:9, 11–12, 15

sheol

Sheol; realm of the dead

rephaim

Rephaim; the “shades”; the dead in the underworld

underworld occupants

Ezek 28:17

Isa 14:9

melakim

“kings” (fallen enemies)

The nachash was cursed to crawl on its belly, imagery that conveyed being cast down (Ezek 28:8, 17; Isa 14:11–12, 15) to the ground. In Ezekiel 28 and Isaiah 14, we saw the villain cast down to the ʾerets, a term that refers literally to the dirt and metaphorically to the underworld (Ezek 28:17; Isa 14:9, 11–12, 15). The curse also had him “eating dirt,” clearly a metaphorical reference, since snakes don’t really eat dirt as food for nutrition. It isn’t part of the “natural snake diet.” The point being made by the curse is that the nachash, who wanted to be “most high,” will be “most low” instead—cast away from God and the council to earth, and even under the earth. In the underworld, the nachash is even lower than the beasts of the field. He is hidden from view and from life in God’s world. His domain is death.

After the fall, though humankind was estranged from God and no longer immortal, the plan of God was not extinguished. Genesis 3 tells us why we die, why we need redemption and salvation, and why we cannot save ourselves. It also tells us that God’s plan has only been delayed—not defeated—and that the human story will be both a tragic struggle and a miraculous, providential saga.

Babylonian intellectuals (mostly, the priestly class) presumed that civilization in Mesopotamia before the flood had been handed down by their gods. For that reason, they wanted to connect themselves and their intellectual achievements with knowledge from before the flood. It was their way of claiming that their knowledge and skills were divine and, therefore, superior to those of the nations they had conquered. That in turn meant that the gods of those nations were inferior to the gods of Babylon.

The apkallus were the great culture-heroes of preflood knowledge. They were the divine sages of a glorious bygone era. Babylonian kings claimed to be descended from the apkallus and other divine figures from before the flood. The collective claim was that glorious Babylonia was the sole possessor of divine knowledge, and that that empire’s rule had the approval of the gods.

The biblical writers and later Jews disagreed. They saw Babylonian knowledge as having demonic origins—in large part because the apkallus themselves were so intertwined with Mesopotamian demonology. The Babylonian elite taught that the divine knowledge of the apkallus had survived the flood through a succeeding postflood generation of apkallus—giant, quasi-divine offspring fathered by the original preflood apkallus.

The biblical writers took what Babylonians thought was proof of their own divine heritage and told a different story. Yes, there were giants, renowned men, both before and after the flood (Gen 6:4). But those offspring and their knowledge were not of the true God—they were the result of rebellion against Yahweh by lesser divine beings. Genesis 6:1–4, along with 2 Peter and Jude, portrays Babylon’s boast as a horrific transgression and, even worse, the catalyst that spread corruption throughout humankind. Genesis 6:5 is essentially a summary of the effect of the transgression. It gets little space—it’s a restrained account. The later Second Temple Jewish literature goes after it full bore.

First Enoch 8 goes on to elaborate how certain watchers corrupted humankind by means of forbidden divine knowledge, practices largely drawn from Babylonian sciences, another clear indication that the intellectual context of the story was known to Second Temple authors. Since the Babylonian apkallus were considered demonic, it is no mystery why Peter and Jude link the events of Genesis 6:1–4 to false teachers (2 Pet 2:1–4). While attacking their aberrant knowledge, Peter and Jude evoke the imagery of Genesis 6. False teachers are “licentious” men who indulge in “defiling lusts” (2 Pet 2:2, 10; Jude 8). Like the divine beings of Genesis 6 who “did not keep to their own domain” (Jude 6), defecting from the loyal elohim of Yahweh’s council, false teachers “despise authority” and “blaspheme majestic beings” whom angels dare not rebuke (2 Pet 2:9–11; Jude 8–10).

Less obvious is the implication of the incident with respect to the promised seed of Eve. The biblical writers draw attention to Noah’s blamelessness (Gen 6:9). Scripture does not specifically exempt Noah and his family from the sinful cohabitation of Genesis 6:1–4, but since the event was so heinous, it would be absurd to presume otherwise.20 As concepts like divine sonship began to appear in the Bible with respect to Yahweh’s people Israel (Exod 4:23), the Israelite king (Psa 2:7), and, ultimately, the messiah, the theological messaging became important. Noah is in the line of Christ (Luke 3:36; cf. 3:38). At no point could it be claimed that the ultimate seed of Eve, the messianic deliverer, was the son of any elohim besides Yahweh.21

Genesis 6:1–4 is far from being peripheral in importance. It furthers the theme of conflict between divine rebels (the “seed of the nachash”) and humanity that will impede the progress of Eden’s restoration. It is one of two passages in the Old Testament that fundamentally frame the history of Israel as a people and a land. The other one is the subject of the next chapter.

CHAPTER 13

The Bad Seed

IN THE LAST CHAPTER WE LEARNED THAT NEW TESTAMENT WRITERS PAR-took of the intellectual climate of their own Jewish community, a community that flourished in the period between the Old and New Testament. It might seem unnecessary to mention this, given the enthusiasm many Bible readers have today for tapping into the Jewish mind to understand the words of Jesus and the apostles. When it comes to Genesis 6:1–4, though, that enthusiasm often sours, since the result doesn’t support the most comfortable modern Christian interpretation.

The truth is that the writers of the New Testament knew nothing of the Sethite view, nor of any view that makes the sons of God in Genesis 6:1–4 humans. Our goal in this chapter is to revisit the passage and dig deeper. When we take it on its own terms, we can determine its character and meaning.

THE ANCIENT NEAR EASTERN CONTEXT

That Genesis 1–11 has many connections to Mesopotamian literature is not disputed by scholars, evangelical or otherwise. The story of creation, the genealogies before the flood, the flood itself, and the tower of Babel incident all have secure connections to Mesopotamian material that is much older than the Old Testament.1

Genesis 6:1–4, too, has deep Mesopotamian roots that, until very recently, have not been fully recognized or appreciated.2 Jewish literature like 1 Enoch that retold the story shows a keen awareness of that Mesopotamian context. This awareness shows us that Jewish thinkers of the Second Temple period understood, correctly, that the story involved divine beings and giant offspring.3 That understanding is essential to grasping what the biblical writers were trying to communicate.

Genesis 6:1–4 is a polemic; it is a literary and theological effort to undermine the credibility of Mesopotamian gods and other aspects of that culture’s worldview. Biblical writers do this frequently. The strategy often involves borrowing lines and motifs from the literature of the target civilization to articulate correct theology about Yahweh and to show contempt for other gods. Genesis 6:1–4 is a case study in this technique.

Mesopotamia had several versions of the story of a catastrophic flood, complete with a large boat that saves animals and humans.4 They include mention of a group of sages (the apkallus), possessors of great knowledge, in the period before the flood. These apkallus were divine beings. Many apkallus were considered evil; those apkallus are integral to Mesopotamian demonology. After the flood, offspring of the apkallus were said to be human in descent (i.e., having a human parent) and “two-thirds apkallu.”5 In other words, the apkallus mated with human women and produced quasi-divine offspring.

The parallels to Genesis 6:1–4 are impossible to miss. The “two-thirds divine” description is especially noteworthy, since it precisely matches the description of the Mesopotamian hero Gilgamesh. Recent critical work on the cuneiform tablets of the Epic of Gilgamesh has revealed that Gilgamesh was considered a giant who retained knowledge from before the flood.6

Other connections: In the Mesopotamian flood story found in a text now known as the Erra Epic, the Babylonian high god Marduk punishes the evil apkallus with banishment to the subterranean waters deep inside the earth, which were known as Apsu.7 The Apsu was also considered part of the underworld.8 Marduk commanded that they never come up again. The parallels are clear and unmistakable. The banishment of these sinister divine beings to beneath the earth is significant. In the last chapter, I noted that this element of the story, found in 2 Peter and Jude, is not found in the Old Testament. The presence of this item in books like 1 Enoch and, subsequently, in the New Testament, is a clear indication that Jewish writers between the testaments were aware of the Mesopotamian context of Genesis 6:1–4.9

There are two other features to highlight in our discussion before we discuss what it all means.

THE SONS OF GOD:

Watchers, Sons of Heaven, Holy Ones

The divine transgression before the flood is retold in several Jewish texts from the intertestamental period. At least one has the divine offenders coming to earth to “fix” the mess that was humankind—to provide direction and leadership through their knowledge. They were trying to help, but once they had assumed flesh, they failed to resist its urges.10 The more common version of events, one with a more sinister flavor, is found in 1 Enoch 6–11. This is the reading that informed Peter and Jude. The story begins very much like Genesis 6:

And when the sons of men had multiplied, in those days, beautiful and comely daughters were born to them. And the watchers, the sons of heaven, saw them and desired them. And they said to one another, “Come, let us choose for ourselves wives from the daughters of men, and let us beget for ourselves children.”

The account has the Watchers descending to Mount Hermon, a site that will factor into the biblical epic in unexpected ways. Watcher, the English translation of Aramaic ʿir, is not new to us. In an earlier chapter about how God and his council participate together in decision making, we looked at part of Daniel 4, one of the sections of Daniel written in Aramaic, not Hebrew. Daniel 4 is the only biblical passage to specifically use the term watcher to describe the divine “holy ones” of Yahweh’s council.11 The geographical context of Daniel is of course Babylon (Dan 1:1–7), which is in Mesopotamia.

The offspring of the Watchers (sons of God) in 1 Enoch were giants (1 Enoch 7). Some fragments of 1 Enoch among the Dead Sea Scrolls give names for some of the giants. Other texts that retell the story and are thus related to 1 Enoch do the same. The most startling of these is known today by scholars as The Book of Giants. It exists only in fragments, but names of several giants, offspring of the Watchers, have survived. One of the names is Gilgamesh, the main character of the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh.12

Figurines of apkallus, the Mesopotamian counterparts to the sons of God, are known through the work of Mesopotamian archaeologists. They were buried in rows of boxes as parts of foundation walls for Mesopotamian buildings to ward off evil powers.13 These boxes were referred to by Mesopotamians as mats-tsarey, which means “watchers.”14 The connection is explicit and direct.

THE NEPHILIM

One of the great debates over Genesis 6:1–4 is the meaning of the word nephilim. We’ve seen from the Mesopotamian context that the apkallus were divine, mated with human women, and produced giant offspring. We’ve also seen that Jewish thinkers in the Second Temple period viewed the offspring of Genesis 6:1–4 in the same way—as giants. Any analysis of the term nephilim must account for, not ignore or violate, these contexts.

Interpretation of the term nephilim must also account for another Jewish phenomenon between the testaments—translation of the Old Testament into Greek. I speak here of the Septuagint. The word nephilim occurs twice in the Hebrew Bible (Gen 6:4; Num 13:33). In both cases the Septuagint translated the term with gigas (“giant”).15

Given the backdrop we’ve covered, it would seem obvious that nephilim ought to be understood as “giants.” But many commentators resist the rendering, arguing that it should be read as “fallen ones” or “those who fall upon” (a battle expression). These options are based on the idea that the word derives from the Hebrew verb n-p-l (naphal, “to fall”). More importantly, those who argue that nephilim should be translated with one of these expressions rather than “giants” do so to avoid the quasi-divine nature of the Nephilim. That in turn makes it easier for them to argue that the sons of God were human.

In reality, it doesn’t matter whether “fallen ones” is the translation. In both the Mesopotamian context and the context of later Second Temple Jewish thought, their fathers are divine and the nephilim (however translated) are still described as giants.16 Consequently, insisting that the name means “fallen” produces no argument to counter a supernatural interpretation.

Despite the uselessness of the argument, I’m not inclined to concede the point. I don’t think nephilim means “fallen ones.”17 Jewish writers and translators habitually think “giants” when they use or translate the term. I think there’s a reason for that.

Explaining my own view of what the term means involves Hebrew morphology, the way words are spelled or formed in Hebrew. Since that discussion gets technical very quickly, I’ve elected to put those details elsewhere, at least for the most part.18 But since I don’t like to leave questions unanswered, we need to devote some attention to it here.

The spelling of the word nephilim provides a clue to what root word the term is derived from. Nephilim is spelled two different ways in the Hebrew Bible: nephilim and nephiylim. The difference between them is the “y” in the second spelling. Hebrew originally had no vowels. All words were written with consonants only. As time went on, Hebrew scribes started to use some of the consonants to mark long vowel sounds. English does this with the “y” consonant—sometimes it’s a vowel. Hebrew does that with its “y” letter, too (the yod).

The takeaway is that the second spelling (nephiylim) tells us that the root behind the term had a long-i (y) in it before the plural ending (-im) was added. That in turn helps us determine that the word does not mean “those who fall.” If that were the case, the word would have been spelled nophelim. A translation of “fallen” from the verb naphal is also weakened by the “y” spelling form. If the word came from the verb naphal, we’d expect a spelling of nephulim for “fallen.”

However, there’s another possible defense for the meaning “fallen.” Instead of coming from the verb naphal, the word might come from a noun that has a long-i vowel in the second syllable. This kind of noun is called a qatiyl noun. Although there is no such noun as naphiyl in the Hebrew Bible, the hypothetical plural form would be nephiylim, which is the long spelling we see in Numbers 13:33.

This option solves the spelling problem, but it fails to explain everything else: the Mesopotamian context, the Second Temple Jewish recognition of that context, the connection of the term to Anakim giants (Num 13:33; Deut 2–3), and the fact that the Septuagint translators interpreted the word as “giants.”

So where does the spelling nephiylim come from? Is there an answer that would simultaneously explain why the translators were consistently thinking “giants”?

There is indeed.

Recall that the Old Testament tells us that Jewish intellectuals were taken to Babylon. During those seventy years, the Jews learned to speak Aramaic. They later brought it back to Judah. This is how Aramaic became the primary language in Judea by the time of Jesus.

The point of Genesis 6:1–4 was to express contempt for the divine Mesopotamian apkallus and their giant offspring. Biblical writers had an easy choice of vocabulary for divine beings: sons of God. Their readers would know that the phrase pointed to divine beings, and other passages in the Torah (Deut 32:17) labeled other divine beings as demons (shedim). But these writers needed a good word to villainize the giant offspring. “Fallen ones” doesn’t telegraph giantism, so that didn’t help them make the point.

My view is that, to solve this messaging problem, the Jewish scribes adopted an Aramaic noun: naphiyla—which means “giant.” When you import that word and pluralize it for Hebrew, you get nephiylim, just what we see in Numbers 13:33. This is the only explanation to the meaning of the word that accounts for all the contexts and all the details.

THE STRATEGY OF GENESIS 6

But what does it all mean? Why is Genesis 6:1–4 in the Bible? What was its theological message? I’ve already noted that the goal was polemic—a dismissal of Mesopotamian religion. But that’s a little vague. Let’s explore it.

Because the content of Genesis 1–11 has so many deep, specific touch-points with Mesopotamian literary works, many scholars believe that these chapters either were written during the exile in Babylon or were edited at that time.19 The scribes wanted to make it clear that certain religious ideas about the gods and the world were misguided or false.

Think about the setting. The Jews, followers of Yahweh, were in Babylon, deported against their will by the greatest empire in their known world. Though captives, prophets like Ezekiel (and Jeremiah before him) had told the people that their situation was temporary—that the God of Israel remained the real sovereign. He was fully in control and was the true God. They would be set free and Babylon would crumble. For Jewish scribes, their work during the exile was an opportunity to set the record straight for posterity. And that they did.

Babylonian intellectuals (mostly, the priestly class) presumed that civilization in Mesopotamia before the flood had been handed down by their gods. For that reason, they wanted to connect themselves and their intellectual achievements with knowledge from before the flood. It was their way of claiming that their knowledge and skills were divine and, therefore, superior to those of the nations they had conquered. That in turn meant that the gods of those nations were inferior to the gods of Babylon.

The apkallus were the great culture-heroes of preflood knowledge. They were the divine sages of a glorious bygone era. Babylonian kings claimed to be descended from the apkallus and other divine figures from before the flood. The collective claim was that glorious Babylonia was the sole possessor of divine knowledge, and that that empire’s rule had the approval of the gods.

The biblical writers and later Jews disagreed. They saw Babylonian knowledge as having demonic origins—in large part because the apkallus themselves were so intertwined with Mesopotamian demonology. The Babylonian elite taught that the divine knowledge of the apkallus had survived the flood through a succeeding postflood generation of apkallus—giant, quasi-divine offspring fathered by the original preflood apkallus.

The biblical writers took what Babylonians thought was proof of their own divine heritage and told a different story. Yes, there were giants, renowned men, both before and after the flood (Gen 6:4). But those offspring and their knowledge were not of the true God—they were the result of rebellion against Yahweh by lesser divine beings. Genesis 6:1–4, along with 2 Peter and Jude, portrays Babylon’s boast as a horrific transgression and, even worse, the catalyst that spread corruption throughout humankind. Genesis 6:5 is essentially a summary of the effect of the transgression. It gets little space—it’s a restrained account. The later Second Temple Jewish literature goes after it full bore.

First Enoch 8 goes on to elaborate how certain watchers corrupted humankind by means of forbidden divine knowledge, practices largely drawn from Babylonian sciences, another clear indication that the intellectual context of the story was known to Second Temple authors. Since the Babylonian apkallus were considered demonic, it is no mystery why Peter and Jude link the events of Genesis 6:1–4 to false teachers (2 Pet 2:1–4). While attacking their aberrant knowledge, Peter and Jude evoke the imagery of Genesis 6. False teachers are “licentious” men who indulge in “defiling lusts” (2 Pet 2:2, 10; Jude 8). Like the divine beings of Genesis 6 who “did not keep to their own domain” (Jude 6), defecting from the loyal elohim of Yahweh’s council, false teachers “despise authority” and “blaspheme majestic beings” whom angels dare not rebuke (2 Pet 2:9–11; Jude 8–10).

Less obvious is the implication of the incident with respect to the promised seed of Eve. The biblical writers draw attention to Noah’s blamelessness (Gen 6:9). Scripture does not specifically exempt Noah and his family from the sinful cohabitation of Genesis 6:1–4, but since the event was so heinous, it would be absurd to presume otherwise.20 As concepts like divine sonship began to appear in the Bible with respect to Yahweh’s people Israel (Exod 4:23), the Israelite king (Psa 2:7), and, ultimately, the messiah, the theological messaging became important. Noah is in the line of Christ (Luke 3:36; cf. 3:38). At no point could it be claimed that the ultimate seed of Eve, the messianic deliverer, was the son of any elohim besides Yahweh.21

Genesis 6:1–4 is far from being peripheral in importance. It furthers the theme of conflict between divine rebels (the “seed of the nachash”) and humanity that will impede the progress of Eden’s restoration. It is one of two passages in the Old Testament that fundamentally frame the history of Israel as a people and a land. The other one is the subject of the next chapter.